


Daddy Gave Me a Name

by aewriting



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Eventual Smut, Homophobia, M/M, Military, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Returning Home
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-31
Updated: 2019-06-19
Packaged: 2020-04-05 03:23:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19040146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aewriting/pseuds/aewriting
Summary: Even from beyond the grave, Jesse Manes is able to complicate Alex's life.





	1. Father of Mine

**Author's Note:**

> This is an AU. In this universe, Alex left for the Air Force and never looked back.

It’s late when he gets the call.

He wouldn’t have answered at all, if it hadn’t been the work phone. He has to answer the work phone.

“Fuck,” comes the sleepy groan. “That yours?”

“Yeah, it’s mine,” Alex mutters, fumbling in the dark for the phone. He answers, asks for a second to inelegantly hop into the bathroom. No time to mess with the prosthetic, but can’t have a conversation out in the open, even if he’s 90% sure Koa is already back to sleep. Given the hour, there’s either a major problem at the base, or it’s the mainland.

Unbidden, he remembers another recent call from the mainland, how Flint had pleaded with him. “ _He’s dead, Alex, and you can’t be bothered to come to his fucking funeral?_ ”

Alex shakes his head, speaks into the phone. “Okay, I’m secure. Go ahead.”

“Your presence is required at a meeting tomorrow morning, Captain Manes. I understand that you are off-duty this weekend, but this is urgent.”

Alex rubs his hand between his eyes. “Copy.”

“Please pack any personal and DoD tech in your possession and report to base at 0800 hours tomorrow.”

“Personal tech?”

“Cell phones, laptops, tablets, the like. Along with your DoD laptop and cell.”

Alex rolls his eyes. “I am aware of the meaning of the term. What is the purpose of bringing personal tech to an on-base meeting?”

“Just report to base at 0800 hours tomorrow, Captain Manes, and you will be provided with additional information.”

The call ends, and Alex exhales the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. Christ, what’s going on? In his ten years in the military, he’s never been asked to surrender his own personal tech. Could he have gotten flagged for something inappropriate? Not likely – he’s kept his nose fucking clean, cleaner than most. Never used the DoD tech for anything but business, and even on his personal equipment he was pretty conservative. He’s a codebreaker, after all – he knows how compromised even standard apps and websites can be, let alone shit like PornHub and Grindr. He hasn’t even had a social media presence since closing down his MySpace account right before basic – the harder it’d been for his asshole father to track him, the better.

He turns the handle of the bathroom door, then lets out a soft, bitter chuckle after he gets the door open almost silently. It was a good effort at stealth that’s about to be totally torpedoed by his need to hop, half-naked, across the bedroom to retrieve his prosthesis.

As expected, Koa is indeed asleep. Against expectations, he remains asleep even after Alex sits down on the edge of the bed and attaches his prosthesis. Alex looks at him fondly as he reaches for his pants, his shirt.

Shit, could that be what this is about? Some bigot finding out about Koa and making a stink? DADT was dead and buried (for now, Alex wasn’t naïve), but that didn’t stop some people from hating. Alex has been discreet, so fucking discreet. He thinks back to his texts with Koa – even those were tame. No nudes, nothing explicit. With a hand on Koa’s bare hip, Alex bids him a silent goodbye. God, from this angle, with the curly hair and the tan skin, he almost looks like –

No. Don’t go there.

***

Alex has already counted the ceiling tiles and has shifted to examining his own cuticles when the door to the small conference room flies open with enough force to nearly dent the wall. Alex fights his startle response and tries to remain as still and calm as possible. All his tech has already been confiscated, and he’s been waiting at least half an hour in this small room, obsessively going over any possible reason he could be here. He thinks about some of the therapy he’s done, reminds himself not to jump to conclusions or catastrophize until he has more data. He eyes the two men who have entered the room and are settling themselves opposite Alex at the conference table. Alex makes eye contact with Major Ronaldo and nods his recognition. He’s relieved when the nod is returned.  

Ronaldo speaks first. “Captain Manes, thank you for joining us this morning. This,” he says, gesturing to the man to his right, “is Special Agent Tucker from the Office of Special Investigations. We’ll also be joined by Special Agent Dougherty, also from Special Investigations, over video conference.”

So this IS an investigation, and Alex is somehow involved. He watches as Ronaldo pulls up a secure video feed and an older man’s face appears. He is dressed in fatigues, and Alex wonders where he’s located.

After confirming that all video and audio are working, Ronaldo turns his attention back to Alex. “Captain, Special Agents Dougherty and Tucker have some questions for you. I ask that you answer to the best of your ability.”

“Understood,” Alex replies, trying to surreptitiously rub the sweat off his palms.

Tucker, a gruff-looking man, speaks first. “When was the last time you spoke to your father?”

That was not the question Alex was expecting. “My father?” Alex peers at Tucker quizzically. “He, he died last week.”

“Please answer the question, Captain. When was the last time you and your father spoke?”

Alex leans back in his chair, takes a breath. “That would have been about a year ago. I’d just been transported stateside to Walter Reed –“

“Captain Manes is a Purple Heart recipient. Lost a leg in an attack while serving in Iraq,” Ronaldo adds.

Alex gives a tight nod. “Yes. Within the first week of my arrival at Walter Reed, my father showed up at my hospital room. We exchanged words, and then I requested that he be removed from the approved visitor list.”

“What words were exchanged, Captain?”

“My father said that he was concerned about me, and I felt that it was too little, too late.”

“How so?”

Alex clenches his jaw, exhales deeply, and makes eye contact with Tucker. “Before Walter Reed, I hadn’t seen my father in person since he dropped me off at basic training.” Tucker looks at him expectantly, urging Alex to continue. “We’ve never really seen eye to eye, and his presence in the hospital was a stressor, not a help to me. That was the last time I ever saw him.”

The man on the screen, Dougherty, finally speaks. “Were you aware that he tried to get you transferred to Roswell, New Mexico following your stay at Walter Reed?”

Alex can’t hold back a small, mirthless chuckle. “Yes. Apparently, he’d been going behind my back after my injury, saying that it would be best if my next assignment was close to family. I suspect he just wanted to keep tabs on me.” Alex can feel his shoulders hunching, and forces himself to take a deep breath. “The farther I was from him, and Roswell, the better, which is how I ended up here in Honolulu.”

“Why do you think your father felt he would need to ‘keep tabs’ on you?” asked Tucker, eyes narrowing.

Alex doesn’t have a good feeling about where this is going. “My father likes, well, _liked_ control,” he shrugs.

Tucker just stares at him. “You know, we’ve talked to all three of your brothers. They all gave the same, specific reason you and your dad hated each other. Now what do you think that could be?”

And, there it is. Alex shifts in his chair and looks up at Tucker. God damn it, and god damn his father. Ten fucking years in the military, and he’s never had to actually say it, officially, on record.

“I’m gay.” Alex lets out a slow breath, shakes his head. “I’m gay, and my father hated it.” He narrows his eyes at Tucker, who’s looking at him with a small, smug smile. Alex sees the surprise on Major Ronaldo’s face, and instantly knows this new information about Alex has taken him totally by surprise.

“Thank you, Captain Manes,” says Dougherty quickly. “That’s consistent with your brothers’ reports regarding the rift between you and your father. All three let us know that you and your father had a very strained relationship, dating back prior to your military service.” Dougherty tilts his head, seeming to study Alex. “One of your brothers reported that your father was… _quite_ physically and verbally abusive toward you. Is that correct?”

“Yes, that’s correct,” Alex says tightly.

“We saw nothing official in your record or his,” Tucker comments. “Why didn’t you report it?”

Because Dad was best friends with the sheriff. Because I didn’t want him to _kill_ me. Because, because, because…

Alex’s mouth is set in a tight line. “My father made it very clear that things would escalate if I told anyone. I was a child. I was scared.”

“And no one noticed?”

Alex shrugs, “Apparently _one_ of my brothers did.”

Tucker opens his mouth to say something else, but Dougherty beats him to it. “Thank you, Captain Manes. I realize that these are difficult topics.”

Alex nods, sneaks a look at Major Ronaldo, who is looking at him with pity. Damn it. Alex is tired of pity, has had far too much of it since he lost his leg.

Dougherty continues. “What have you heard about the circumstances surrounding your father’s death?”

Alex’s brow furrows. “I was told that he fell and hit his head.” He looks at Tucker, then back at Dougherty’s face on the screen. “Is that not what happened? Was there some sort of foul play?” Alex notices the way Tucker’s eyes flick toward Dougherty.

“We are still investigating the circumstances surrounding your father’s death, Captain,” Dougherty replies, dodging the question. “I’m going to shift gears a little bit.” Alex gives a small nod. “Did your father ever express any… unusual ideas? Strange hobbies?”

“Besides regularly beating his youngest son?”

Dougherty grimaces a bit. “Captain…”

Alex shakes his head. “My father hunted, watched football, and made us do survival exercises.” Alex realizes he’s biting his lip; makes himself stop. “Look, I really don’t know what to tell you. It’s been almost ten years since I spent any real time with him.”

“How about your brothers?” asks Tucker. “What was your relationship like with them?”

“Better than with my dad,” acknowledges Alex, “but still pretty distant. I… I burned a lot of bridges when I left Roswell. My brothers were all pretty close to my father.”

“When was the last time you spoke to them?”

“Flint called me last week,” Alex replies. “Chewed me out for not flying home for Dad’s funeral.”

Dougherty nods, writes something down. “And your other brothers?”

“I haven’t heard from them in about a year, since everything with my leg.”

There’s a long silence. Dougherty appears to be reviewing notes, while Tucker just stares at Alex, scrutinizing him.

“So…” Tucker finally says. “You’re gay.” Alex looks at him warily. “You seeing anyone here?”

Alex’s jaw twitches. “How is this relevant?”

Tucker cocks an eyebrow. “Answer the question.”

“Yes,” Alex says tightly.

“How long have you two been,” Tucker makes a waving motion in the air with his hand, “together?”

Alex sighs. “A little over two months.”

“And is the relationship sexual?”

Damn it. “Yes.”

“Captain,” Dougherty says, “at some point before you leave today, we will need the name and contact information of your current partner.”

Alex’s hand is on his temple. “Really?”

“How’d you two meet?” asks Tucker. “Bar? Dance club?”

Jesus, what the fuck… “Dance club? I have _one leg_.” Tucker actually seems pleased with Alex’s irritation. It’s so easy for Alex to get snarky and sarcastic when backed into a corner. It’s his default mode, one he cultivated for years growing up with his Dad, with his classmates. Alex has to take a deep breath, remember his counter-interrogation training. He certainly hadn’t thought he’d need it under these circumstances. Stay calm, just answer the questions as simply as possible. “He was my Uber driver.”

“You make it a habit to sleep with your Uber drivers, Captain?”

“Tucker…” Dougherty says, a warning in his voice.

“How many other guys have you had sexual contact with since you’ve been at this duty station, Captain?”

Fuck it all. “One.” And hadn’t that been a goddamn trip…

Dougherty keeps writing on his damn notepad. “Could you please provide us with his name and contact information before leaving today?”

“I don’t know it.”

Tucker lets out a derisive snort.

“Any chance that partner could have had access to any of your DoD equipment?” Dougherty asks.

“No,” Alex says flatly. He knows what they’re trying to do, what Tucker is trying to do, at least.

“How do you figure that?” asks Tucker. “Either you had your DoD phone on your person while you were screwing around with some random guy, or you didn’t have it accessible when you should have.”

Alex is trying so hard not to just explode. “The encounter in question happened my second evening in Hawaii. I had not yet received my new tech for this duty station, so there’s no chance it could have been compromised.”

Dougherty nods. “Thank you for your cooperation, Captain. Those are all of our questions for now.” Tucker’s head snaps up in surprise. “Major, could you please escort Captain Manes to a secure waiting area while Tucker and I have a chat? We’ll need to bring him back in within the hour.”

Major Ronaldo is on his feet, gesturing to the door. Alex follows quickly, glaring at Tucker as he goes. With some satisfaction, he can hear Dougherty raising his voice as the door slams shut. “Tucker, what the _hell_ was tha-“

“This way, Captain,” says Major Ronaldo, avoiding eye contact.

***

One anxious hour later, Alex is escorted back to the little conference room.

“Captain,” starts Dougherty, “I just want to say again that I appreciate your cooperation with our investigation today, and I hope that can continue in the future.” Alex holds back an eye roll. The last thing he wants is to keep answering shitty questions about his shitty father. Leave it to Dad to screw him from beyond the grave. “You have a spotless service record, and you have been an incredible asset to the Air Force and the military at large. Your considerable sacrifices are noted, and appreciated,” Dougherty continues. “But…”

Alex braces himself for whatever bad news is coming.

“…given that there is an open investigation against your father for multiple, grave offenses, we are revoking your security clearance for the remainder of your service.”

Alex feels like he’s been slapped. “Wait, what?”

“You only have a few months left,” says Tucker.

“I don’t understand,” Alex says, hating how hoarse his voice sounds. “I’ve just told you that I have NO relationship with my Dad. And, and he’s dead! It’s not like we’re going to be patching things up any time soon.”

“I know this was not expected, and it’s not what you wanted to hear,” says Dougherty, his tone sympathetic. “In addition to the revocation of your clearances, you’ll be reassigned. To Roswell.” Dougherty at least has the good grace to look sorry.

Alex just shakes his head.

“It’s where I’m based out of, Captain, and I’m the one leading the investigation into your father. You’ll finish out your service in Roswell, where you can be easily accessible as this investigation progresses. We will set you up with a desk job here, with plenty of allowances for your ongoing therapies. We’ll also help you initiate the service connection process with the Albuquerque VA. You’re absolutely still on track for an honorable discharge.”

“So, I’m pretty much going from codebreaking in Honolulu to data entry in Roswell?”

“Yup!” Tucker answers brightly. Dougherty glares.

Alex is reeling. Sure, it’s only a few more months, but this is the very outcome he’s fought for the past ten years, ending up back in Roswell. And he can’t help the anger rising in him – anger toward his father, the Air Force, the whole damn world.

“We’ve already arranged transportation for you this Tuesday morning. DoD will pack up the contents of your apartment and ship it to the location of your choosing.”

Alex does the quick math in his head. “That’s less than 48 hours. I’ll need to figure out where to stay in Roswell, deal with some things here – “

“Like your boyfriend,” Tucker interjects, smiling meanly, and fuck if Alex doesn’t want to punch his goddamn face.

“Yes, my _boyfriend_ ,” Alex grits out, and realizes this is the first time he’s ever used _any_ sort of title to refer to anyone he’s been seeing. Alex knows that says far more about Alex than any of his actual relationships, and it doesn’t even feel accurate for whatever he’s got going with Koa, but by God if it helps give Tucker an aneurysm, he’ll say it all day.

As hoped for, Tucker’s face sours, and Dougherty quickly speaks up. “Thank you, Captain. I will plan to meet you at the air strip in Roswell upon your arrival.”

Alex can’t help but ask a final question. “Did you revoke my brothers’ clearances, too, or am I just special, for _some_ reason?” Alex glares at Tucker, who glares right back at him.

Dougherty looks at Alex, looks at Tucker, clears his throat. “All three of your brothers are currently in a military prison, Captain.”

Well, shit. Alex just stares, open-mouthed, at Dougherty. Tucker looks angry, but Dougherty launches into an explanation. “As you probably picked up on, we have some concerns about the circumstances surrounding your father’s death. After he didn’t report to base last Monday and couldn’t be reached by phone or email, Air Force personnel were able to track his personal and DoD issued cell phones, which was how his body was discovered at an off-base location. In the course of a routine investigation into his cause of death, it became very clear that your father was grossly misusing DoD resources in order to run a… personal project.” Dougherty cocks his head. “Did you have any knowledge about this?”

Alex is wide-eyed. “No, absolutely not.”

“I cannot give you more details at this time about the nature of that project, but suffice it to say that we have been trying to figure out who, exactly, was involved. All three of your brothers appear to have been, well, knee-deep in it.” Dougherty gives a half-smile. “Congratulations on being the black sheep.”


	2. Well I Was Born in a Small Town

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex returns to Roswell to begin the next chapter of his life following his father's untimely demise.

The flight plan back to Roswell is a long one, with multiple transfers and layovers. Alex tries to sleep intermittently, but mostly he thinks.

As soon as he was released from base, personal cell in hand, he’d called Koa and asked to meet at the little supermarket with the best poke in town. Koa’d been raised just outside of Honolulu and knew all the local spots. The supermarket had been the site of one of their first outings together, and they’d returned there occasionally over the last few months.

Alex liked Koa, sure, but it had never been serious between them. He knew Koa was seeing other people. He was fine with it. Koa had never told him as much, but Alex could tell. The condoms box Koa kept in the nightstand was much emptier than it should have been, given the frequency with which they’d been having sex. Sometimes, Alex wondered if he should have cared more, but he knew in a deeper part of him that it was easier this way. When Alex broke the news about his transfer, Koa took it in stride, wishing Alex the best and urging him to call if he ever found himself back in Hawaii. Alex knew he wouldn’t.

And now he’s going back to Roswell, of all places on the fucking earth, down one leg from where he started. And one father, thank god.

As the little plane lands at the military airstrip outside of Roswell, Alex can just make out a figure he assumes is Dougherty, waiting for him at the end of the tarmac. Alex carefully deplanes with his small duffel.

“Captain!” Dougherty exclaims. The man is tall, significantly taller than Alex. “It’s good to see you in person. How were your flights?”

“Long,” Alex admits.

Dougherty gestures to a nearby Jeep. “Get in. I’ll drive us to my office. I’ll try to keep things quick today – I’m sure you’re jet-lagged.”

As they drive the short distance, Alex takes in the scenery. It’s been ten long years since he’s been back, and while he’s seen other lands, other deserts, there’s nothing quite like New Mexico. Everything looks and smells familiar in an elemental sort of way that has Alex simultaneously on edge and at ease.

Dougherty lives up to his promise of keeping the meeting short. He shows Alex his new workspace and gives him new tech specific to his duty station. He encourages Alex to let him know if he uncovers any new information about his brothers or father, and he promises to be in touch if any additional assistance is required on Alex’s part.

“We are giving you a week of leave to get settled before you have any on-base duties,” says Dougherty. “Get things straightened out – housing, change of address, therapies and whatnot. Air Force is providing you with a housing stipend for three nights – get a motel or something if you don’t have anyone you can crash with. After that, though, let us know if you’ll need on base housing, okay?” Alex nods. “Oh, and Captain?”

“Yes?”

“In the course of our investigation into your father, we’ve had to look into his personal estate. All assets are frozen at the current time, but it did turn up that he left something for you in his will.”

Alex snorts, “I’m shocked, actually.”

Dougherty shrugs. “I’ll give you the name of a lawyer to contact. If it turns out to be anything of value, just give me a call. Also Captain?” Dougherty actually looks a bit on edge. “I know you grew up here. You know this town and the locals. If you see or hear anything… strange, anything you can’t explain, please contact me, alright?”

“Copy that,” Alex says.

The rest of the morning is a blur. Alex gets a rental car and checks into a small motel just outside Roswell, strips out of his uniform, and sleeps for four straight hours. By the time he wakes up, it’s late afternoon and the sun is blazing. He calls the lawyer Dougherty told him about, and is told to stop by any time before 5. Alex showers, puts on some civvies, grabs a fast food sandwich, and drives to the law office. He’s relieved it’s on the outskirts of town; he doesn’t feel ready yet to see the main drag with the Crashdown, the Sheriff’s station, Bean Me Up, The UFO Emporium…

There’s no way _he’s_ still in town, right? Alex shakes his head. No. No way. It’s been ten years.

Alex pulls up to the law office and parks the car. He walks in and gives his name to the receptionist, who bursts into a smile.

“Why Captain Manes!” she exclaims, “Thank you for coming in! We’ve been trying to reach you – you’re a hard man to get a hold of.” She shakes her head. “I am so, so sorry to hear about your Daddy. He was such a blessing to this community.”

Alex gives a tight nod. “He’s in a better place now.” Hopefully hell.

The receptionist nods sympathetically. “Yes, well, we’ll keep your family in our thoughts and prayers. You can have a seat if you like. I’ll let William know that you’re here.”

Alex doesn’t even get a chance to choose a chair before a door flies open and a red-faced older man barrels right toward him.

“Captain Alexander Manes!” he booms, extending his hand. Alex takes it and the man shakes it enthusiastically. “Thank you for your service, son!” Alex nods awkwardly. “I’m William Reiser, your daddy’s lawyer. He sure was proud of his boys. I was so sorry to hear about his passing.” Alex just continues nodding. “My office is right through here. You take a seat, alright? Can I get you anything – water, coffee?”

“No thank you.” Alex settles into a chair opposite William’s.

“I’m glad you’re here, son. We have a few matters to discuss today.”

“Oh?”

William looks down at his notepad. “You were actually named in another will a few years ago, in addition to your father’s. What would you like to discuss first?”

Alex’s brow furrows. “Um, let’s talk about the will that’s not my father’s. I have no idea who would have left me something.”

“It was Jim Valenti.”

“Oh my god,” Alex covers his mouth, shakes his head. “I had no idea.” He peers at William. “When did you say this was, a few years ago?”

William nods, watching Alex carefully. “That’s right… You really didn’t know?”

Alex shakes his head.

“Hmmm,” William says. “Your daddy said he told you about it, told you about the cabin.”

“Cabin?” Alex asks.

“Yes. Jim Valenti left his old hunting cabin to you. I have the keys for you if you want it. There are some property taxes due, so you may want to think it over, but if you decide to claim it, it’s yours.”

“Why would he leave it to me?” Alex wonders aloud. Jim had been a kind man, especially to Alex, but this was over and above anything Alex would have expected. “What happened to him?”

“Cancer, very nasty,” William says, shaking his head. “I’m sorry to be the one to break it to you. It’s just that Jesse said he told you.” William leans back in his chair. “I thought I knew your daddy, but lately it seems as if he had some secrets.”

Alex scoffs a bit.

William leans toward Alex, drops his voice. “You know, the military’s been sniffing around here, asking about his estate. It’s all very mysterious.”

Alex simply shrugs, doesn’t feel like getting into a lengthy conversation about it. William seems to realize this and changes course. “How’d you and your Daddy get on, Alex?”

“It’s probably no secret that we had our differences,” Alex says. “We weren’t very close.”

William nods. “Just checking. Sometimes with these wills and such, people get really blindsided by how much, or how little is given to them. Causes some real rifts.”

Alex shakes his head a bit. “Mr. Reiser, I’m frankly very surprised my father left me anything at all. You won’t hear any outrage from me.”

William seems to relax at that. “Well, good. Your Daddy left the bulk of his assets and estate to your three brothers, divided evenly among them. It was a very simple will, really. The only other instruction he left concerned you, and I have to admit, it’s been a subject of some speculation here in the office.”

“Oh?”

“Back five, six years ago, your Daddy walks in here with a box, all locked up. He hands me the key, and says that when his time comes, he wants you to have it. That box has been in a safety deposit locker down at the Roswell Federal Bank since then.” William takes in Alex’s confused expression. “Must be pretty special. Over the years, we’ve debated what could be in it – cash, coins, letters? Bank’s still open – what do you say we take a stroll down there and find out what’s inside?”

Between the long flight, the jet lag, and the overall stress of the past few days, his leg is aching. “How far is the bank?”

“Oh, no more than a ten minute walk – easy for a fit young military man like you,” William says, smiling. “As long as you don’t mind listening to me huffing and puffing.”

“How about we drive?” Alex suggests. “My leg is acting up, after all the travel.”

“Sorry to hear that, son. I’ll drive us, then we can come back here and sort out some paperwork.” Alex grits his teeth and stands, takes a moment to get his balance. He can feel William’s eyes on him as they walk outside to the car and get settled inside. “You’re really limping, Captain. You may want to get yourself checked out, make sure there’s nothing wrong with that leg.”

Alex looks at him oddly. “Oh, um, no. I, uh, I lost a leg in Iraq. If I’m up and around for too long with the prosthesis I start having some trouble.” Alex gives it a little rap for good measure.

William goes very quiet. “Your Daddy…” He shakes his head, looks back at Alex. “Seems I’m learning a lot about your Daddy today, Alex. Not nice stuff. When’d you lose your leg?”

“About a year ago.”

“Son of a bitch…” William mutters. “He always told me you were just a computer guy. He’d talk up your brothers, sing their praises, but you…” He shook his head. “He was in here not two months ago. We had lunch together, shot the shit for maybe two hours. I asked about you, because I was trying to get in touch with you about the Valenti cabin. He said you were just parked on your ass somewhere, killing time till your discharge.”

“I’ve had three combat deployments,” Alex says flatly.

“He never told you about the cabin, did he?”

Alex shakes his head in the negative.

William throws the car in park at the bank. “Well, now I’m honestly a little worried about what we’re going to find in that damn box.”

“Me too.”

Alex lets William take the lead at the bank. He and the tellers obviously know each other, and Alex listens, detached, to their easy banter. Within minutes, he’s showing his ID and getting escorted back to a private room. He can tell that William wants to join him, and Alex allows it. What could it hurt, at this point? A pretty blonde bank employee walks in with a simple wooden box and sets it on the table in front of Alex. William withdraws the small key from his pocket and hands it to Alex.

“Moment of truth, son.”

Alex inserts the key and turns, feeling the clasp give way. Taking a deep breath, he opens the box.

Inside is a hammer. _The_ hammer.

***

“Mrs. Valenti?” She’s older, because of course she is – he’s been gone ten years, everyone’s older. Or dead.

She’s approaching him carefully, like he’s a wounded animal, then –

“Alex?”

Alex nods.

Her expression softens dramatically. “Oh, Alex. I didn’t know you were back in town. It’s been years!”

“Ten,” Alex murmurs.

She gives a low whistle. “Let’s see you. Can you get up for me?”

Alex winces a bit. “Maybe with some help.”

Valenti looks at him, curious. “I’m actually the Sheriff now, Alex, and I need to ask you a couple questions, seeing as I’m actually out here on a call.”

“Oh!” Alex isn’t sure what part of the statement to react to first. “Um, congratulations on being Sheriff?” He grimaces. “Wait, no, Jim… god, I’m so sorry. I only just heard today that he passed.”

Valenti kneels down next to him. “Thank you, Alex. It hasn’t been easy.” She pauses. “I know you just lost your father.” Alex looks away. “That why you’re back?”

“Indirectly.” Alex feels her eyes on him, scrutinizing him and his reaction, or lack thereof.

She shifts her weight. “So Alex, I do have to ask – have you been drinking today?”

He snorts a bit. “I wish,” he starts, then thinks better of it. “Sorry, sorry, it’s just been a day. No, no drinking.”

“Drugs?”

“Just my prescriptions.”

Valenti nods. “Care to tell me how you came to be hiding out in the back alley of a pawn shop?”

“Is that what this is now? Used to be a Blockbuster.”

The Sheriff laughs a little. “That’s been long gone.” She’s fully sitting now, cross-legged beside Alex. “I remember taking you and Kyle there on Friday nights and – “

“Then we’d get pizza from Roma’s and have a sleepover.”

The Sheriff smiles. “Those were nice memories.” She looks at him again, her gaze sympathetic. “Seriously, honey, what’s going on? I’m not going to write you up, so you can relax about that. There’s no trace of booze on you, but you look like you’ve had it rough today.”

Alex sighs. “The military just transferred me back here. And I had to deal with some legal stuff with my dad, and it brought up a lot of memories.”

Valenti pulls out a little notepad. “I got a call about a dark-haired man ‘storming out of the bank, muttering to himself,’ then trying to kick a trash can, falling, and yelling at a bystander when he tried to approach.” She raised an eyebrow. “That you, or should I be looking for someone else?”

“No, that’s me. I’m sorry.” Alex breathed deeply. “I… honestly I think I had a panic attack. I’m finally coming down from it now. If I destroyed any property, please just let me know. I’ll replace it or pay for it or something.”

Valenti shook her head. “No need. Like I said, I’m not going to write you up. We are short-staffed enough as it is. Just lay off the trash cans, okay?” Alex huffs a little, gives a small smile. “Now, can you get up for me?”

The smile disappears. “I’ll need a little help. My, um…” He shakes his head a bit. It’s Mrs. Valenti, he’s just going to lay it all out there. “I got injured, in Iraq. Lost part of my right leg. I wear a prosthesis now. Can I get a hand?”

Valenti is on her feet, extending her arm without hesitation. Alex grasps it and hauls himself up, wincing a bit. Valenti’s lips are set in a tight line. “You know, Alex… I wasn’t happy to see your daddy go, but I wasn’t sad either. Jim and I, we saw how he was with you. I’m sorry we didn’t do more, at the time.” She lets go of Alex’s arm, satisfied that he’s regained his balance. “Military’s investigating his death. They’ve asked my department to cooperate fully. It’s not looking good for him, or your brothers.” She reaches out, touches his cheek. “I’m glad you got away from him, Alex, I just wish it hadn’t cost you so much.”

Alex looks down, can’t speak.

“You let me know if there’s anything I can do for you, okay?”

Alex sniffs. “Y-yes.” Deep exhale. “Definitely. Thank you.”

***

And that’s how Alex finds himself standing in the beer aisle at Ross’s Supermarket at 5:30pm.

He considered going to the Pony, initially. He assumes it’s still there, though he honestly doesn’t know. The thought of having to catch up Mimi on the past ten years, not to mention risk running into high school classmates is frankly overwhelming. And this kind of misery he’s feeling… it’s not for public consumption.

The liquor store was option two, but he knows better. Hard liquor and his pills just don’t mix.

So that leaves beer. He chooses Ross’s because it’s run-down, and still on the outskirts of town. He just needs to get in, get a sixer, and get out. Then go back to his shitty little hotel, drink, and hopefully sleep away the jet-lag and his father’s massive mind fuck.

Alex sees him first, freezes.

He’s not supposed to be here. It’s been ten fucking years, he’s _not supposed to be here._

And he’s an _adult,_ holy shit. It shouldn’t surprise Alex, but it still does.

The Michael in his mind has been locked in time for ten years, with his tan skin and his floppy curls, big eyes and wet fucking mouth.

This is him, and at the same time it isn’t.

He’s thicker now, stronger-looking. Hair’s still wild as hell. There’s stubble. There’s sharpness and chest hair and dear _god_ …

It’s been a long time since Alex looked at someone and just flat-out _wanted._ He hasn’t let himself do that. It’s been too dangerous, and he’s been too guarded. He can’t help this, though, the warm, prickly sensation that’s creeping up his neck, settling in his belly, making his palms go sweaty.

Michael must feel his eyes on him, because he turns, expression suspicious.

Alex sees the exact instant that recognition hits, that Michael’s face goes slack with shock.

“Alex?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	3. Walking After You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex comes face to face with Michael for the first time in ten years.

Michael’s immediately on the move, coming straight toward Alex, eyes raking him over, head to toe. And Alex, Alex is rooted to the spot, not used to being the object of such intensity, not like this. It’s too much, and he breaks first, flinches away and looks over his shoulder nervously. Is anyone else here, seeing this? Christ, if his dad finds out that within hours of getting home he’s chatting up Michael Guerin again…

Shit, no. He’s dead. Dead, dead, dead.

And Michael’s stopped moving now and is just looking at Alex, because of course he saw Alex’s hesitation. Alex watches Michael quickly, expertly close himself off. He had hoped that Michael wouldn’t still have to do that, ten years later. He hadn’t expected him to be even better at it.

“Alex Manes,” Michael says, tone light, little smirk on his face. “It _is_ you. I wasn’t sure at first.”

Bullshit, Alex thinks.

“Never thought you’d be back in Roswell.”

“Neither did I.” It’s the wrong thing to say, Alex realizes quickly, taking in the way Michael bites his lip a bit and looks down.

“You left here without a fucking trace. Thought maybe you were dead or something.” It’s meant to sound casual, nonchalant, but Michael’s voice breaks and Alex can hear the undertone of real fear.

“I joined the Air Force,” Alex says.

Michael gives him a curt nod and that little smirk again. “I heard, eventually. From DeLuca, I think. Just like Daddy, huh?”

Alex closes his eyes, shakes his head. “Michael…”

“I heard he died, you know.” Michael’s staring at him, eyebrows raised. “I’d give you my condolences, but…”

“I’m glad he’s dead,” Alex snaps. Michael’s eyes widen. “I’m _fucking_ glad,” Alex continues. “You, of everyone, should know that.”

“Who’s this?”

Alex and Michael whip around to see the new person that’s joined them in the aisle. It’s Isobel Evans, Alex remembers. She looks… well, she’s still a beautiful woman, but she looks tired. Honestly, now taking a second look, Michael looks tired, too. They’re both radiating a certain tension, and Isobel… she looks a little… drunk, maybe? She’s not as coordinated as she could be, not as put together as Alex remembers her being back in high school. She slides up right next to Michael, wraps her arm around him.

Oh. _Oh._

It makes a certain amount of sense, Alex realizes. Michael was really good friends with Max back in school, and Isobel is Max’s sister.

“Is…” Michael says warily.

“Who’s your friend here?”

“It’s no one, Is.” Alex winces. So that’s how it is. Michael, to his credit, seems to notice Alex’s reaction. He casts a regretful little look at Alex before trying to usher Isobel out of the aisle toward the checkout. “Let’s just get going.”

She isn’t having it. “No, he looks familiar.” She addresses Alex. “Did you go to high school with us?”

Alex clears his throat. “Uh, yeah. Alex Manes?”

“The emo gay kid?”

“Fuck, Isobel, really?” Michael whispers, looking more than a little pissed at her.

She looks over Alex approvingly. “You changed your look.” She narrows her eyes at him. “Let’s find out why.”

Michael looks like he’s been burned. “Is! NO!”

“What? You’re the one who’s always telling me I need to practice. So let me fucking practice.”

Michael is shaking his head, starting to look a little desperate. “No, Is – not him. He… he’s… he’s military!” Michael spits out. “Air Force!”

“Even better,” Isobel growls. “Let’s see what you know.”

***

Isobel Evans is on the ground in front of Alex, retching.

“Is! Is!” Michael is down on the floor next to her, rubbing her back. He looks up at Alex frantically. “Get somebody!”

Isobel is wild-eyed, babbling. “Oh my god, I didn’t know, Michael, I didn’t know…”

Alex has to shake himself into action. It’s like he’s hazy, disconnected, and he doesn’t know why. “Right, yeah, of course,” he says quickly, embarrassed at his own hesitation. That’s not how he was trained – Dad would have backhanded him by now. He leaves the aisle and flags down the first blue-shirted Ross’s employee he can find. Alex quickly leads him back to the beer aisle, but all that’s there is a puddle of sick. The employee takes a long, dramatic breath before clicking on his walkie talkie. “Clean up on aisle 4.”

Alex looks around. It’s like Michael and Isobel have vanished. Ross’s is not a big store, and he checks down the aisles as quickly as he can, given the current state of his prosthetic. Not a trace.

He shakes his head, trying to clear the fog. God, he’s tired. The jet lag’s catching up with him, and he’s self-aware enough to know that seeing Michael again threw him for a fucking loop. Alex frowns. There’s no good reason why someone starts vomiting in the middle of Ross’s. He hopes that Michael and Isobel aren’t into anything shady. It’s been ten years – how would he know? Oh god, maybe she’s pregnant? He wonders how long they’ve been dating, how serious it is. He wonders if they’ll fuck tonight, or if Isobel is too sick. He wonders if he’s a horrible person for wondering about that.

He realizes that he’s been shuffling aimlessly through Ross’s, and when he looks up he can’t help but let out a bitter chuckle. He’s standing right in front of the tiny “adult” section of the supermarket, a few shelves of condoms tucked in between rows of tampons and adult diapers. He begins to walk away, hesitates, looks back.

What could it hurt?

He grabs the first box of condoms he sees, pauses, and throws in some lube. What the hell, right? He’s going to be here a few months – might as well be prepared in the off, off chance that something happens. And he’s feeling bitter as hell tonight, and the little hotel lotion sample is shit. He already knows who he’ll be thinking about when he jerks off tonight, damn him and his curls and his ten additional years of chest hair and lean muscle and adulthood. Fuck.

Focus, dammit. Alex’s little shopping basket looks awfully pathetic. He tries to remember why he came to Ross’s in the first place and gets to work. Six pack, check. Bottled water, check. Body wash (because, again, the toiletries are SO bad), check. He throws in a few power bars and a king-size Snickers.

He gets to the front of Ross’s and sighs. He had been hoping to use the self-checkout aisle but forgot to take into account the fact that Ross’s hasn’t been updated since approximately 1982. He feels eyes on him. There’s an older woman in front of him in the checkout line. She smiles at him when they make eye contact, then her gaze wanders to his basket. She sees the condoms and she looks at his left hand, noting the lack of a wedding ring. Her brows knit together in a disapproving manner as she turns away quickly.

Fuckin’ Roswell. She’s scandalized now? What if she knew what he was _really_ hoping to do with those condoms…

Alex realizes with a start that he’s never actually bought condoms in Roswell before. He remembers being 17, crouched down in the passenger seat of Michael’s truck, texting with Maria ( _“i just kissed a guy at the museum!!_ ”), giddy with excitement and lust as Michael ran into Discount Drug to pick them up supplies before they made their way back to the toolshed.

Alex shakes his head. It should be a good memory, or at least an amusing one. Instead it’s tainted, thanks to his father.

Alex greets the cashier. She’s young, not more than 20, and she has shocking blue hair and multiple piercings. Alex feels an instant kinship. Her hair nearly matches the blue polo shirt that all the Ross’s employees have to wear, and Alex wonders if that was intentional. He smiles at her, more warmly than he usually would, and he’s met with bland indifference.

“Thanks for shopping at Ross’s. Did you find everything you were looking for?”

“Yes, thank you,” Alex says quickly. He watches as she scans the water, the beer.

“Can I see your ID, please?”

Alex hands over his license. The girl eyes it. Alex half expects her to comment on the fact that it’s a Hawaiian license, but she doesn’t – just hands it back in a bored fashion and continues scanning his items. She gets to the condom box, stops.

“You know that this is open already?”

“What happened, private, couldn’t wait?”  

Alex doesn’t even have to turn around to see that it’s Guerin, standing right behind him in the line. “Fuck,” he curses softly. He addresses the cashier first. “No, I didn’t know that.”

He turns, and Michael is _right_ there, standing well within Alex’s personal space. He has an amused little smirk on his face. He inclines his head toward Alex’s shopping basket. “Looks like you’re planning quite the party, soldier.” Alex fixes him with what he hopes is a withering glance, and it actually seems to throw Michael a bit. “Or, you know, a night in with a special someone?”

The cashier suddenly seems a little less indifferent. Her eyes dart from Michael to Alex.

“How’s Isobel?” Alex asks, ignoring Michael’s questions.  

Michael actually answers sincerely. “She’s not one hundred percent, obviously. She’s resting in the car, but made me come back to get this,” he says, holding up a bottle of nail polish remover.

“She must take her nail care very seriously,” Alex says sarcastically.

“Guess you’d know,” Michael retorts with a shrug. “Knew?  How long's it been, Manes?  Black still your favorite, or do you use red, white, and blue now?"”

The cashier clears her throat. “Um, sir? The condoms?”

“What about them?” Alex asks impatiently, wanting to get the hell out of Ross’s and Michael Guerin’s orbit.

“This box is open. Would you like to go pick out another box?”

Michael responds faster than Alex. “I think he should get them on the house, don’t you? It’s not his fault the box was tampered with.”

The girl sighs deeply. “If you like, I can call my manager.”

“You know what? Just forget it. I don’t need them.”

“You sure?” the girl asks, raising an eyebrow and glancing in Michael’s direction. Alex fixes her with a stern “Captain Manes” glare and she retreats, taking the box off of the conveyor belt and placing it beside her register.

“Nuh uh, hand them over.” Michael reaches over the belt, grabs the box and addresses Alex. “They’re on me.” He looks Alex full in the face and flashes him a bright, false smile. “Thank you for your service!”

“Oh my god,” Alex mutters. Mercifully, the cashier finishes ringing him up and accepts his payment. “See you round, Guerin,” he says, walking quickly toward the exit before Michael can finish up.

He’s outside, fumbling with the keys to the rental car when he hears footsteps approaching him.

“Hey Manes! You forgot your condoms!” Michael calls, much too loudly.

“Keep them,” replies Alex. “You and Isobel can use them.”

Michael’s face scrunches up. “Me and Isobel?” Realization dawns on him. “Oh, no, it’s not like that - she’s like a sister to me.”

Something loosens in Alex. “Oh.” He’s suddenly very aware that his back is pressed up against the driver’s side door of his nondescript sedan, and that Michael is only inches away from him.

Michael seems to sense the shift. “You look good,” he says quietly, fingering Alex’s front pocket.

Alex shudders a bit. “So do you.” He’s sure that Michael can feel the uptick in his beats per minute through his thin shirt.

Michael moves in even closer. “You know, you never answered my question earlier. You in town with anyone?”

Alex just shakes his head from side to side.

Michael smiles a little. “In that case, I think we should catch up, Manes.”

Michael’s hands are in his hair, right at the nape of his neck, and he’s seventeen fucking years old again. Alex closes his eyes. He’s always so careful about this, always so… undercover, so discreet. And here he is in the middle of a goddamn parking lot, in Roswell, letting Michael Guerin crowd him up against a car.

He flattens himself backward against the car, away from Michael’s touch. “It’s been ten years, Michael. We, we barely know each other anymore.”

Michael quirks an eyebrow. “You really gonna tell me you haven’t slept with people who are bigger strangers than me?” Michael suddenly looks flustered.  "Well, not _bigger_ bigger, you know?

Alex actually laughs a little at that, and it breaks some of the tension. He pauses a moment, pulls back further to really take everything in. Michael Guerin is here, in the flesh, right in front of him, hands on him, intimating that he’d like to take things… further. Alex realizes with a start that he’s in an unprecedented position of freedom at the moment. His father, always such an insurmountable barrier to the free expression of his sexuality, of his very _self_ , is actually dead. Dead! Alex nearly lets out a choked little laugh at the thought. And because Dad was such a shitbag, Alex doesn’t even have a security clearance to be worried about. No worries about the military discovering he’s gay either, because they _already know._

Alex wants this. Alex wants _Michael_.

Alex surges forward, right into Guerin’s personal space. Michael seems to anticipate it, and they crash together, all lips and tongues and teeth. Alex can’t tell who deepens the kiss first – it all seems to happen at once, as if they’re attuned to each other, seeking and needy. Alex’s hands are snaking up Michael’s back, pulling him closer, then grabbing his curls. Michael groans and presses his hips up against Alex, pinning him to the car and forcing contact at their very center. Alex gasps, nips at Michael’s lip, then stops.

Remembers that asshole tourist in Hawaii his second night there, the disgust on his face when he discovered Alex’s prosthesis.

He has to tell Guerin. It can’t go further without him knowing. Alex couldn’t take it if they got started just to have his leg fuck things up right in the middle of it.

“Guerin, Guerin…”

“Mmm?” Michael murmurs, trying to get his warm mouth on the soft skin of Alex’s neck, right between his jaw and his collar.

Alex pushes him back a little and just blurts, “I’m missing a leg.”

Michael freezes, pulls back. He’s staring at Alex with an expression Alex can’t identify, and Alex starts to panic a little. “I, uh, I lost it in Iraq. I have a prosthesis now, on the right.” Michael still isn’t speaking, isn’t moving. “And, um, I wanted to tell you now so in case you don’t want to, you know, go any further, I completely under – oomph-“

Michael’s seized Alex in a forceful embrace, and he’s making a noise that, to Alex, sounds almost wounded. “Michael, Michael?” Alex questions.

“My god, Alex, my god…” Michael murmurs, just clutching at him. He shakes his head and looks Alex full in the face before kissing him, hard, then looking skyward, still pressing Alex against him. “You’re here. You’re here,” he says quietly.

“I am,” says Alex.

Michael pulls away again. His gaze is intense, and it’s roaming up and down Alex’s body. “We need to go somewhere right fucking now.”

Alex is nodding. “Yes, yes… I have a hotel?”

Michael shakes his head. “Is… she’s not doing well. Her husband just left her. I’ve been staying with her. She… she probably shouldn’t be alone right now. She won’t care if you come back with me.” Michael pauses. His eyes are huge, and he suddenly seems so vulnerable. “Please come back with me?”

There’s no hesitation. There should be, Alex knows, but there’s not.

“Yes.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
